


Blank Page

by Crowleystolemyillusions (Mordhena)



Series: Starving til I tasted you [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angelic Bonding, Angelic Lore, Grace - Freeform, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Unrequited Gabriel/Sam Winchester, feathers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-05 17:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16815355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Crowleystolemyillusions
Summary: A/N:All right, so the writers hate Gabriel. Fine. That’s their choice, and if they wanna kill him off there’s not a heck of a lot I can do about it…But…here in my own little cozy head canon world, I can keep him alive and no one can stop me!Disclaimer:Keeping Gabriel alive in my head canon world should not be construed to imply in any way that he will be happy about it.At least at first. I will try for a happy ending.Also, for some reason the prologue came to me in Chuck's voice. *shrug* Not sure what that means.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> __  
> You are the ways of my mistakes  
>  I catch the rainfall  
> Through the leaking roof  
> That you had left behind  
> You remind me  
> Of that leak in my soul  
> The rain falls  
> Blank Page—Smashing Pumpkins  
>  __  
> 
> 
> * * *

## Prologue

**Chuck:** Getting back from Apocalypse world was easy. Well, that being said, it should be noted that 'easy' is a qualitative term.

Once the Winchesters got everyone organized and found an old school bus, and Dean got it going, and the Apocalypse world refugees loaded on, and they rolled out and got to the rift, and Michael tried to stop them, and Lucifer got hurt and Gabriel _almost_ got killed and they all piled through the rapidly shrinking rip in space and time it was… _relatively_ speaking—a piece of cake!

## Chapter 1

The bunker is humming. Every room is occupied. There are people in the kitchen murmuring together over mugs of coffee. Others in the library, leafing through books or chatting in small groups. More in the war room, poring over the map drawn on the long table. Still others, scattered throughout the building in bedrooms, sleeping, or just trying to shut out some of the noise and activity.

Some distant part of Sam wishes _he_ could close his eyes, or at least close a door and shut out the world, too. But he can’t. His brother is out there somewhere. His stupid, impulsive idiot of a brother who made a stupid impulsive idiotic deal with Michael in an attempt to kill Lucifer.

_How many times have we been right here in this position, Dean?_

Sam wonders if some vestige of Dean can hear him, if his thoughts are like the prayers that raised Gabriel.* He huffs a breath, shakes his head. It’s no use wishing for some kind of _ex machina_ to miraculously save the day. Whoever is writing this crap-shoot that is the life of Sam Winchester, hates him. They must. For all the shit they send his way and the lack of solutions forth coming. For a short, weary moment, his eyes slip closed.

_Sam? Sammich! Hey! Sam!_

The voice is annoyingly persistent. Sam wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. He grumbles when the voice is suddenly accompanied by a hand patting his cheek. He comes awake with a growl.

“Whoa, easy there, tiger.” Gabriel steps back, hands raised in mocking surrender. “You faded out on us there for a minute.” He frowns. “How long has it _been_ since you slept, or ate or…” Exaggerated sniffing. “Took a shower?”

Sam shrugs. “I ate some…” he furrows his brows. _How long_ has _it been?_

“Right.” Gabriel hauls Sam to his feet and propels him towards the bathroom. “Wash up. I’ll meet you in your room in a few minutes.”

“But…”

“Nope.” Gabriel gives him another shove. “ _Not_ a suggestion.”

Relenting, Sam drags himself to the bathroom.

The hot water feels good on his weary, aching muscles. Sam leans his forehead against the tiled wall, closes his eyes. He snaps alert though and straightens up when he feels himself start to fall. _Damn. I’m more tired than I realized._

When he makes his way to his room. Gabriel is already there. He sits cross legged in the middle of Sam’s bed. A tray laden with coffee, sandwiches and a small platter of fruit in front of him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sam says.

“I didn’t.” Gabriel pats the bed invitingly. “Mary fixed this.”

“Mom?” Something tugs inside of Sam and he allows a tired smile to pass across his lips.

“Yeah, parents are a drag, right?” Gabriel grins. “But, love ‘em or loathe ‘em, _most_ of them look out for their kids.” The faint note of bitterness is not lost on Sam. He climbs onto the bed, and pokes at one of the sandwiches.

“This is more Dean’s kinda thing,” Sam says. He passes over the bologna sandwich in favor of a small bunch of grapes on the plate. They’re juicy, chilled from the refrigerator. Sweet and crunchy on his palate. He demolishes the entire bunch while Gabriel sits quiet beside him.

“You need to eat and rest, Sam.” Gabriel says when Sam pushes the tray aside and gets up. “Michael’s in the wind. Cas and I can’t even detect him. There are people working on finding him. He’s not gonna _be_ found any faster if you kill yourself.”

“I …” Sam falters, swaying on his feet. The bed looks so tempting. “I need to…”

“I _can_ knock you out, Sammich…” Golden eyes meet and hold Sam’s gaze for a long moment.

Sam lets his shoulders droop, defeated. “Okay, “ he says. “Maybe I could take an hour or two.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“You’ll wake me if…”

“As soon as I know anything, you’ll know, Sam. I promise.”

“Yeah. All right, but only an hour.” Sam stretches out on the bed, asleep before he’s fully settled. He’s not even aware when Gabriel draws a blanket over him and lies down at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * See Starving til I tasted you


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: For a description of the healing of Gabriel and his wings/grace after Asmodeus, please see The Song Remains and This Flesh and Bone. The Song Remains has a the most detailed description, of how he was healed but there's some nice mentions of it in This Flesh and Bone._
> 
> _Again, this story draws on the excellent wing/feather lore created by[NorthernSparrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernSparrow/), used with her generous permission._

## Chapter 2

The lack of windows in the bunker makes it impossible to tell time without looking at a watch or clock. Sam sleeps better without the constant reminder of passing time glowing from the bedside in the darkness. His phone is out of reach and Sam stopped wearing a watch a long time ago. They’re a hindrance in fist fights, dangerous on hunts with their potential to catch on tree limbs or in clothing at crucial moments when freedom of movement could be the difference between survival and becoming another vengeful spirit.

He wakes surrounded by darkness, and the scent of apples, cinnamon and woodsmoke. He smiles, eyes closed, burrows deeper into downy warmth. There’s a reassuring weight across his shoulders and something soft brushes his cheek when he moves. He feels safe, cocooned. He drowses a while, reluctant to stir to full wakefulness and let in the world and a thousand worries and responsibilities.

A gentle gust of warmth against the back of his neck puzzles him. He stirs.

The warm, comforting weight lifts from Sam’s shoulders. “Are you awake?”

“Gabriel?”

“Mm-hmm.” The response is drowsy.

Sam rolls over to face the archangel. “Were you sleeping?”

“A little.”

“I didn’t think you could…”

“We can. Most Angels don’t, but I enjoy it sometimes. With the right companion.”

Heat steals into Sam’s cheeks. He’s glad of the darkness.

“You’re blushing,” Gabriel murmurs.

“I…Oh…”

A chuckle filled with such warm fondness that the heat in Sam’s cheeks increases. “I can sense it, Sammich.”

Sam lets out a breath. He tries to make out Gabriel’s face in the darkness. “Did I sleep long?”

“A few hours.”

“You stayed all that time?”

“Yeah. I had nothing else to do. Nowhere else I wanted to be.”

Unsure how to respond to that, Sam says nothing. He shifts a little, missing the warm weight he awoke to. “What happened to the blanket?”

“It’s still covering you.”

“No…there was…”

“Oh.” Gabriel still for a moment, then he shifts subtly. “This?”

The weight is back, softness brushing Sam’s cheek as he lifts his head, trying to see. He moves an arm, his fingers brushing against downy warmth.

“Yeah…It’s…I didn’t think we had duvets in the bunker.”

“It’s not a duvet,” Gabriel huffs a laugh. “It’s my wing.”

“You…your w…” Sam stammers.

“Wing.” Gabriel says. The room lights with a faint golden glow which seems to come from all around them.

Sam turns his head, marveling. The wing is large, but surprisingly light for its size. It extends from a point behind Gabriel’s shoulder, outwards and down to rest across Sam where he lies on the bed. The feathers—what Sam can see of them—are the source of the soft light.

Sam squirms, sits up, wanting a closer look. “I’ve never seen an _actual_ angel wing before. He reaches a tentative hand towards the limb, but pulls back, glancing into Gabriel’s eyes. “Is—is it okay?”

“Of course. They’re fully healed.”

Sam smooths his fingers over the small, soft feathers that fan across the upper part of the wing. He remembers a diagram Gabriel made for him once. “These are the coverts,” he says.

“Uh-huh.” Gabriel’s wing trembles slightly at Sam’s touch.

“Aloolas?” Sam strokes a group of three feathers at the phalanx.

“AL-yu-lay or AL-yu-las,” Gabriel corrects him. He draws away from Sam’s touch a little.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No.” Gabriel folds the wing along his back, the light fading as the wing seems to dissolve into nothing. “It’s okay.”

Something tense in Gabriel’s tone gives the lie to his words, but Sam decides not to pursue it for now. “How did you make the feathers glow like that?”

“With grace,” Gabriel replies. “Comes in handy when humans insist on living in caves.”

Sam chuckles. “I…” he falters, ducks his head. “Gabriel…I’m really glad you’re back, and that you came with us to get Mom and Jack back from the rift.” He pauses. “And I’m glad you didn’t die over there…when Michael smote you.”

“My brothers still don’t understand.” Gabriel says. “I spent centuries learning every trick Loki knew and then some. Yet they still think that killing me is as simple as poking an archangel blade between my ribs or smiting me.” He sighs in the darkness.

Sam’s blood suddenly runs cold. _Michael._ Sam gasps. “Dean!” He’s off the bed in a millisecond.

“I shoulda known it wouldn’t last,” Gabriel mutters.

“What?” Sam turns to him.

“Nothing,” Gabriel gets up as Sam flicks on the light. “Let’s go see if there’s any news.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some readers may wonder why Sam says he has never seen an angel's wing in this story, given that in other stories of mine he _has_ in fact seen Gabriel's wings. This story is related but not necessarily _connected_ to those, call it a parallel, for want of a better word.  
>  _ **thoughts:** Yeah, that's how to explain it. It's not a continuity glitch at all_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly longer chapter than usual, but I had a lot that I needed to put in this one.

**Chapter** **3**

Of course there’s no news. Sam hadn’t really expected that there would be. He doubts that anyone, least of all Gabriel, would have allowed him to sleep if Michael’s whereabouts had been discovered.

After checking with Bobby, Mom, Castiel and Jack, Sam makes his way to the kitchen which is deserted, for once. There’s fresh coffee in the pot though, and Sam pours himself a cup. He slumps into a chair his fingers wrapped around the cup as he stares into the middle distance.

_Dean, can you hear me? Where are you? What are you doing? Dean…listen you gotta fight, ok. You gotta fight. You gotta fight him and you gotta get control and throw him out. He’s an angel, and even the douche—bag angels still have to follow the rules. We’re looking for you. We’re gonna do everything we can, but Dean…you have to fight and you have to do everything you can to get back home._

“Sam…”

Gabriel’s voice snaps him out of his internal monologue. Sam meets worried champaign coloured eyes across the table. “Yeah?

“I asked how long it’s been since you ate?”

“I don’t know.” Sam sighs. “I’m not that hungry.”

“Well, I _do_ know. You ate eighteen seedless green grapes, five hours, twenty-five minutes ago and that is not enough to keep that gigantic body of yours going. Hungry or not, you have to eat.”

Sam is half inclined to argue, but the rational side of his brain knows that Gabriel has a point. He can’t sustain this pattern. He huffs a breath, nods. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Gabriel says. “And you need something a little more substantial than sandwiches.” He begins to bustle about the kitchen, gets a carton of eggs from the refrigerator, rummages in a cupboard until he finds a pan.

“You’re going to cook?” Sam watches the archangel, amused.

“I’ll have you know, my vessel is- _was_ -an excellent cook.” Gabriel glances over his shoulder as he sets the pan on the cooktop. “You prefer your omelette without the yolks, right?”

“Uh- right…” Sam’s unsure how Gabriel knows that, but he lets it slide. Gabriel has never been anything, if not surprising.

“One egg-white omelette, coming right up. Do you want toast?”

“I can do that.” Sam stands up, finds Rye bread in the freezer and pops two slices into the toaster.

“Yeugh!” Gabriel wrinkles his nose. “How anyone can eat bread that’s been frozen is beyond me,” he says.

“Dean won’t,” Sam replies. “But I prefer Rye, and since I’m the only one who eats it, I freeze it. It doesn’t keep, otherwise.”

“Needs must, huh?” Gabriel whisks egg whites and pours them into the pan, adding salt, pepper and herbs. “If I had my way, you’d have fresh Rye bread any time you wanted it and never eat another frozen slice again.”

Sam clears his throat. “Sure…we’re made of money.” He says.

“Who needs money, Sammich? I once made bread fall from heaven to feed the Israelites. I think I could manage a loaf of Rye a day.”

The reminder of Gabriel’s otherness almost comes as a shock. It is too easy to forget Gabriel is an angelic being. Sam has never had that issue where Castiel is concerned. Even after years of association, and Cas’s short stint of mortality, there’s still a stiff formality about the seraph that sets him apart.

Gabriel, by contrast, is so at ease with humanity, so casual in his mannerisms, that until he says, or does something that highlights his status…

“There you go, trying to single-handedly unravel the mysteries of the universe again.”

Sam startles and shoots Gabriel an apologetic look. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Read my mind or whatever.”

“I don’t!” Gabriel looks genuinely wounded. “I’d never invade your privacy like that! Sam, your face is what I read. Every thought and feeling appears right…” Gabriel draws a circle in the air around his own face. “There for anyone who cares, to see.”

The omelette is done. Gabriel turns it out onto a plate while Sam butters the toast.

“Am I really that easy to read?”

“To anyone who knows you well, or cares enough.” Gabriel sets the omelette on the table.

“Great,” Sam says, “I’m an open book.”

“Probably not to everyone.” Gabriel consoles. “Just don’t take _me_ on at Poker’s all I’m saying. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

“Bossy,” Sam grumbles, but a loud growl from his stomach gives the lie to his surliness. He sits at the table and cuts a bite of the omelette which is very good. The balance of herbs and seasonings just the way he likes them. Sam eats every last morsel, even mopping the plate with a slice of buttered toast.

“Told you I was good,” Gabriel says when Sam pushes the plate aside and sits back with a contented sigh.

“Not gonna argue,” Sam says. He glances towards the hallway, preparing to stand up when Gabriel lays a hand on his wrist, staying him.

“Sam, I…” The archangel looks suddenly uneasy. “Stay a moment. Can we talk?”

Frowning, Sam settles back in his chair. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“On the other side, in apocalypse world, with everything that went on.” Gabriel pauses. “Nearly dying, seeing others die. Seeing the kind of stakes we’re playing for.”

Sam watches as Gabriel reaches into a pocket inside his jacket. The archangel produces a small feather, laying it on the table between them. The size and shape are familiar. The feather is golden, about four inches long and flecked with black. Sam picks it up, turning it between his fingers watching the light play across the barbules in rainbow shimmers.

“An Alula,” he says, meeting Gabriel’s eyes. ”Is it yours?”

“Yeah.” Gabriel reaches to smooth his thumb and forefinger along the feather, combing the barbules into place. “Saved from my last moult.”

Sam has heard Castiel mention that angels moult, just like any avian creatures. The seraph never went into a lot of detail about the process, and Sam had never pursued it, something about the reverent way Cas spoke had told him that it was a sensitive topic. He looks into Gabriels eyes. “It’s beautiful,” he offers the feather back to the archangel but Gabriel shakes his head.

“I want to give it to you,” he says. “But I need to explain something first.”

“Okay?”

“These feathers are very special, Sam. Angels don’t shed them often. I mean, we usually only moult once or twice in a lifetime, depending on…” He draws a deep breath. “The first, and most crucial moult happens not long after hatching. Shedding the chick down and growing in the flight feathers proper. Alulae aren’t usually moulted at that point. Most angels don’t even grow them in until after they mature.”

Sam nods. He glances at the feather clasped between his fingers. “So when you _do_ shed them, you save them…” He meets Gabriel’s eyes. “What other times do angels moult.”

“Usually, only if a wing gets severely injured and the feathers are damaged, or if an angel loses his grace.”

Sam stares at Gabriel in silence for a long moment and then at the feather he holds. “Then… you shed this feather recently.”  
  
“Bingo!”

Sam is quiet, studying the alula feather with a new reverence. “After Asmodeus stole your grace. After…he hurt you.” He murmurs. He lifts his gaze to Gabriel’s face. “Why these feathers, especially? I mean, from where I’m sitting, any angel feather is special.

“That’s true, actually. Any angel feather in the right…or wrong hands, could potentially be a powerful thing to have. Don’t worry, though,” he adds quickly. “No one can get their hands, right or wrong, on an angel feather just by accident. If someone has a feather, it’s because the owner intended for them to have it.” Gabriel shrugs. “I guess, because alulae are small, they’re easier to collect and save. Most angels destroy the other feathers. It’s just the alulae we keep.”

“Why?’

“I’m glad you asked me that.” Gabriel grins. “Two reasons. One, they’re imbued with grace. That makes them handy for healing. If I could get my stupid little brother to eat one of these? He’d moult and repair his wings. So far, he won’t hear of it, stubborn asshole.”

“And the other reason?”

Gabriel meets and holds Sam’s gaze. “We exchange alulae when we bond.”

“Bond…” Sam frowns.

“Mate…choose a life partner.”

“Oh.”

There is a long, taut silence, so deep that Sam can faintly hear the rumble of generators in the bunker’s basement, and the hiss of heated air through the ventilation system. He stares at the feather, turning it slowly between his fingers, watching rainbows dance and shimmer across the surface.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Not _exactly_ the response. Was hoping for,” Gabriel says.

Sam looks into the archangel’s eyes. “This…I…this is… it’s too much, Gabriel. I—I don’t have anything to offer you. I’m not…”

“Don’t you dare say you’re not worthy!”

“No. No, I wouldn’t. I…I’m just. I’m not…enough.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

The indignant fire in Gabriel’s eyes is too intense to look on. Sam averts his gaze.

“I’m mortal, Gabriel. I’m flawed and I…I’ll get old and die and you’ll be left alone. I care too much about you to condemn you to that.”

“That’s _my_ choice to make, and anyway, you’re completely wrong about that. I wouldn’t be…”

“No.” Sam drops the feather and stands up. “I don’t think you’ve thought this through,” he says. “I can’t accept.”

“Sam!” Gabriel gets to his feet. “Please, just listen…”

Sam shakes his head. He turns on his heel and hurries out of the kitchen before the tears can blind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Got dressed drove the state line_  
>  _Looking for you at the five and dime_  
>   
>  Blank Page, The Smashing Pumpkins
> 
> * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know, and research didn’t turn up names of any of Bobby Singer’s colony members from Apocalyse world, other than Maggie, so I have taken the liberty of naming the refugee armorer, Braden Dafour. He is only ever credited as "Refugee Armorer" to my knowledge. If anyone has different information, please let me know. But for now, he is Braden in my universe.
> 
> Grazie!
> 
> * * *

**Chapter** **4**

  
Castiel comes out of Jack’s room and walks towards the Library. His head bowed, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. He glances upwards as the iron staircase in the library vibrates, rattled by a peal of thunder loud enough to be heard faintly even underground in the bunker. He raises his eyes to the roof, high above.

“That’s…unseasonal,” he murmrus.

“Global warming, huh?”

Castiel looks towards the voice. Sam is seated at a table near the archway that leads into the war-room. He has a stack of papers in front of him on the table. He’s not looking at Castiel, poring over the paperwork.

“Perhaps.” Castiel walks towards Sam as more thunder rolls overhead. “I do know that the Arctic Tundra has changed more rapidly than ever, in the past few decades.” * 

“Really? Huh.” Sam shuffles the papers.

Castiel frowns at the uncharacteristic response. Normally, Sam would be full of curiosity at such a revelation. The seraph pulls a chair out and sits opposite Sam, studying the weary careworn features for a long moment. It’s the first time Castiel notices a striking resemblance between Sam and Dean. “Is everything…” Castiel shakes his head, cutting off the question mid-speech. _Of_ _course_ _it’s_ _not_ _alright_ , he chides himself.

Sam looks up, meets his eyes. He says nothing.

“You seem troubled. Beyond worry for Dean and the search for Michael.” Castiel very carefully keeps the two separate. Reminding himself that Dean is _not_ Michael. Michael is not _Dean_.

Sam snorts, he runs his finger down a long list of information on the sheet of paper before him. “These people…Cas they’re looking to me like some kind of great leader, and I—I’m not. I just want to be out there, looking for Dean, and instead, I’m stuck here drawing up rosters, going over field-notes, checking newsfeeds…” He breaks off as another peal of thunder vibrates through the bunker. “Gabriel’s taken off who knows where. We’ve got Jack in some kind of depression, Lucifer’s vessel clinging to life in the infirmary and—“ Sam glances up at a particularly vibrant rumble of thunder. “Now we’ve got some kind of freak storm rolling in.”

“There is nothing preventing you from hunting,” Castiel says. He keeps his tone empathetic. “There is nothing _to_ _hunt_. Do you think I would be sitting here if there was the slightest chance, the slimmest lead on Michael?”

Sam closes his eyes, shakes his head. “I just…I’m scared, Cas.”

“I know.” Castiel can sense there are things Sam is not sharing, but he doesn’t push. He’s known these brothers long enough to understand that they each play emotional cards close to their chests. Dean more-so, but Sam can be every bit as adept at hiding his feelings if he so chooses. Letting out a breath, Castiel opens his mouth to speak, but is forestalled when Sam’s phone buzzes furiously on the table top, the caller ID lighting up with _Sister_ _Jo_.

 _Anael_ , Castiel watches as Sam snatches up the phone.

* * *

  
“Jo?” Sam says. He listens to slightly ragged breathing down the line. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

_Sam, I’m okay. I’m in Duluth Minnesota. Listen. Michael has been here._

Sam tenses grabs a pen and a sheet of paper. “When, and where, exactly?” He shoots a speaking glance at Castiel.

_I don’t know exactly where he is right now, but he’s in this city somewhere, he tracked me down._

Sam frowns, meets Castiel’s eyes. “It’s a lead,” he mouths.

Castiel tenses, stands up.

Braden, the tall, bearded colony member pokes his head in from the war-room. “Chief,” he says. “I think we got somethin.’”

Castiel glances at Braden and then at Sam. “I’ll go find Bobby and Mary,” he says.

Sam nods an acknowledgement to both. “Jo, is your location secure?”

_I’m fine, Sam. Michael said angels as pathetic as me aren't worth saving, but he didn’t kill me, either, so that’s a plus._

“Okay, sit tight and stay safe until we can get someone to you,” Sam says. He ends the call and heads into the war-room. “What’re we looking at?”

Braden leads Sam over to a bank of laptops where refugee colony members are watching newsfeeds or monitoring for angel and demon activity.

“These reports from Minnesota,” Braden points to a monitor. “Bodies found with the eyes burned out of their sockets.”

Sam leans forward to read the news story. He frowns. “That’s a definite sign of Angelic activity.” He straightens, glancing towards the door as Castiel enters, accompanied by Mary Winchester and Bobby Singer. “We’re moving out. Got a lead in Duluth,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Shoutout to NorthernSparrow’s brilliant CDBB Fiction _Under the Midnight Sun_
> 
> * * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Sam’s fingers are cramped. He flexes them, loosening his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. Beside him, Castiel is silent, staring grimly out at the road framed in the sweep of the Impala’s headlights. Sam rolls his shoulders, glances into the rear-view mirror. Jack is asleep, awkwardly huddled against the passenger door. Sam frowns at him, his glance flickers to the haeadlights steady in the mirror. Mom and Bobby following in the black suburban Dean added to the bunker’s car collection a few months ago.

“So, where are we headed?” Suddenly Gabriel is in the backseat.

Sam startles, mutters a curse as the Impala swerves across the interstate. “Damn it, Gabriel don’t sneak up like that!”

“I like sneaking up,” the archangel retorts. “The reactions are always better that way.” He grins at Sam in the mirror, then casts a glance at Jack. He frowns. “Is the kid okay? He looks a little peaky.”

Sam flicks a glance at Jack. “He tires easily since he lost his grace. He’ll be fine.”

“Soooo, you didn’t answer my question. What’s with the road trip?”

Sam doesn’t believe for a minute that Gabriel hasn’t been keeping track of his actions. “I’m following up on some hunters that haven’t checked in,” he says.

“Sure, if by _hunters,_ you mean _Dean._ ” Gabriel leans forward, resting his arms on the back of Sam’s seat. “C’mon, Sammich, breaking my heart is one thing, but lying too? That’s really low.”

His theory confirmed, Sam shrugs. “We’ve got a lead on Dean,” he says. “And I wasn’t lying, there _are_ some hunters in the field who haven’t checked in. I _will_ be following up on them.” Sam shoots a glance at Castiel who has turned to look at Gabriel but hasn’t spoken.

Gabriel shifts to lean on Castiel’s seat, murmuring close to his ear. “He’s _such_ a bad liar, isn’t he? Remember when we used to smite humans for that kinda thing? Ah, the good old days!”

Castiel squirms, frowning. “I have never smitten a human,” he says.

“Nope. You’ve been smitten _with_ one, though, but…” Gabriel clears his throat, lowers his voice to a stage whisper. “Least said, present company an’ all.” He heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Like I said, good old days. These days I only get to influence the weather.”

Castiel twists around in his seat. “This storm… it was your doing?”

Gabriel grins. “One-hundred-sixty-five thousand homes without power. Hardly my personal best, but I’m not fully charged yet.”

“It’s winter,” Castiel growls. “You ought not to boast about such things. People will be feeling the chill…”

“I’ve been _upset_ , Cassie. What’s a little winter’s chill compared to a wounded heart?”

“Enough!” Sam says. “If you’re going to ride along, be quiet.” He snaps a glance at Castiel, and then turns to scowl at Gabriel. “In case you’ve forgotten, that storm’s still raging. I need to focus on the road!”

“Touchy,” Gabriel snarks, but he sits back, turns his attention to Jack who’s beginning to stir.

Relieved for the distraction, Sam glances at Jack in the rear view. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

A soft smile is the only response and Sam frowns. There are times when Jack bears a strong resemblance to Castiel. In certain lighting, or when a particular facial expression crosses the teens features.

_You’ve been smitten **with** one though…least said, present company and all._ Gabriel’s words to Castiel a few moments ago echo in Sam’s mind. _Cas and Kelly?_ Sam’s frown deepens, he casts a glance at Castiel and shakes his head. _That’s not possible…is it? Wasn’t she pregnant before Cas met her?_

Sam’s focus comes back to the road when Bobby’s lights flash a few times behind him. The agreed signal for a rest stop. He touches the brake, the red flare of brake lights an acknowledgement that they’ll stop at the first opportunity.

He turns to Castiel. “Look out for a diner or something. Bobby and Mom want a stop.”

Castiel nods, and Sam drives on, the question of familial resemblance forgotten for now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chuck:** Duluth is one frustrating dead end after another. They discover that the dead victims are vampires, not humans, and then the trail seems to go cold. Added to that, Jack takes off the day after they arrive in the city. Cas goes looking for him.

That leaves Sam with Mary and Bobby as backup.

Neither of them are completely up to speed. Sam constantly reminds himself that Bobby is not _our Bobby_ and while Mary is more in the loop, she’s also still learning how to navigate a world very different to the one she left in the 1970’s.

And then, there is Gabriel.

***

Gabriel pulls a bright red lollipop out of his mouth with a loud slurping sound. “I’m bored,” He grumbles. “Saaamm, how _long_ are you gonna pore over that same news site?”

Sam ignores him.

With an elaborate sigh, Gabriel stands up. He tosses the lollipop over his shoulder and it vanishes in mid-air. He walks over to Sam, starts to knead the hunter’s tense shoulders. “You really should take a break,” he says. He leans down to nuzzle at the side of Sam’s neck.

“I’m good,” Sam says. He leans in to Gabriel’s touch on his shoulders. “Just tired. I haven’t really slept much since… since Dean. A few hours at most.”

“I know, I was with you for those few hours.”

Sam groans as Gabriel finds a particularly tight knot in his shoulders. “Gabriel, I…I’m sorry for how…for what…what happened. For…”

Gabriel sighs. “For turning down my proposal, you mean? Don’t think you’re getting away that easily, Sam I am nothing if not persistent.”

Sam chuckles, but sobers almost immediately. “I have to find him, Gabriel. I just don’t have time or energy to think of anything beyond that. He’s my brother. Michael’s going to stop at nothing until he wreaks the same kind of destruction here that he has caused in his own world.”

“I’m not going to lie, to you Sam. I won’t tell you that I think we can find him. The odds _against_ us being able to stop him are high.”

“Well, then…we die fighting. The same as we’ve always done, ever since I was a kid.”

Gabriel huffs a breath. “Die fighting,” he says. “What is it with you Winchesters?” His tone is fond, though and he smooths his hands across Sam’s shoulders in a caress, and closes his eyes.

“Well, if you believe your dad, that’s what Dean and I were born for. Our destiny…the true vessels or whatever.”

“Dad, _schmad!_ His problem is, he believed his own publicity. The omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent creator of everything…” Gabriel scoffs. “Well, he’s more than proven he’s _not_ all that. He’s not even close.”

“Believe me, Gabriel. There’s been times when I thought about just giving up. Throw myself into the jaws of some monster and let it tear me to shreds. I don’t though. I can’t. Like it or not, this fight? It’s ours, until the bitter end.”

Gabriel moves to the side of Sam’s chair and sinks to his knees. He looks up into Sam’s hazel-green eyes. “”I’ve fought battles on a scale you can’t even begin to imagine, Sam. I’ve seen empires rise and fall. I’ve _destroyed_ entire civilisations…”

“Those are not exactly endearing qualities, Gabriel.”

“I know. I _know!_ That’s _why_ I quit. That’s why I walked away. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t understand why… _why_ we simply followed orders. ‘Raise this bloodline, destroy _that_ one.’ To me, they were no different. All of them were his supposedly beloved creations. His _Magnum Opus,_ Sam! They were… _you_ were all beautiful.” He shakes his head, unshed tears glittering in his eyes as he looks up at Sam. “I realised Lucifer was right about one thing… Our Father in Heaven is fucking insane.”

Sam nods. “Seems to be a thing with fathers. Mine wasn’t much better.”

“Then this big sasquatch of a human came along and dragged me, kicking and screaming, back into the fight. But this time, I was fighting on your side. I decided that the bloodline he’d raised to destroy, _this_ bloodline. This time? I wouldn’t let him do it. Not without a damn good fight! I just didn’t expect that I’d fall in love.”

Sam looks away, faint colour rising in his cheeks. “You said that Michael will wipe us out, that he will win.”

“No. I said he will try, Sam. I didn’t say he’d win. Right now, the odds are stacked in his favour, but you’ve faced worse.” He laughs through his tears. “Hell, you guys took on Lilith and won, you fought the _mother of humanity…Eve!_ And you brought her down. You wiped the floor with Abaddon! I meant it when I told Lucifer I was backing humanity. As far as I'm concerned, I backed the right side.”

“I’m so tired,” Sam murmurs. “I’m tired, Dean’s tired. We can’t keep going indefinitely.”

“I know, Sam, and I want to help.” Gabriel pulls the Alula feather from inside his jacket and offers it to Sam. “Please, take it. Please become my bond-mate.”

Sam blinks, shaking his head. “What have I got to offer you, Gabriel? A hunter’s death? Because that’s what’s going to happen eventually. Some freak will be quicker than I am.”

“Listen, okay?” Gabriel meets and holds Sam’s gaze. “I think I know what Michael’s trying to do. He’s going about it a different way, but it’s the same kind of thing.”

“What? What d’you mean?” Sam’s gaze drifts between the feather and Gabriel’s face.

“When angels bond, they share. I mean. They share…everything.”

“Everything? I…” Sam frowns. “I don’t know if I want to sprout wings.”

“You won’t. You’re human. Only angels and Nephilim have wings, Sam. But the bond. It’s a link. We'd share grace, we'd share power. We'd be able to communicate across great distances. You’ve heard of Angel Radio, well it’s like that. Just a personal, private frequency. A bonded pair will hear each other’s voices before and above any others. It’s a profound bond.”

Sam frowns. Something about those last three words strikes a familiar chord. He’s heard that before, but he can’t pin the elusive sense of déjà vu down. He shakes his head, dismissing it.

“What is Michael doing?”

“He used his grace to create a link with these super freaks he’s creating. Like…like a hive mind. Of course, he doesn’t have enough feathers to go around, and that’s not how bonding works anyway, but he’s done it by feeding them his grace.”

“Wait!” Sam says. “Are you telling me that if we…If I accept, I’ll turn into some kind of super powered _freak_?”

“No.” Gabriel shakes his head emphatically. “What Michael has done is a _perversion!_ We’d be linked, but it wouldn’t make you into a monster, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes go to the feather and then return to Gabriel’s face. He tentatively reaches out to touch the feather. “But you use these to heal yourself if you’re injured.”

“I have others. The important thing is, if you take this. If you accept and we are bonded…it will heal you if you get hurt.”

Sam’s fingers lightly comb along the feather, smoothing the barbules. A shimmer of rainbow colour follows his touch, chasing his fingers from the base to the tip.”

“See? It likes you. It wants you, too.”

“It feels warm,” Sam says.

Gabriel smiles, nodding. “Yeah.”

“It’s not attached to anything, though. How is it warm?”

“Like I said the other night. It’s imbued with grace.”

“If I accept…no more porn stars or parties at the playboy mansion.”

“I won’t need that anymore.” Gabriel grins. “Can I still watch Casa Erotcia, though? Purely for research purposes. Got some of my best moves from there!”

“Okay,” Sam murmurs.

“Okay?” Gabriel studies Sam’s face. “To Casa Erotica, or to…”

Sam grasps the feather between his thumb and forefinger, gently plucking it from Gabriel’s grasp. “I accept. I…I’ll be your bond-mate.”

Gabriel laughs. A sound of pure joy as his eyes light up golden. He shivers violently and grips Sam’s wrist. “Don’t be afraid,” he says. “And don’t let go!”

Sam tightens his grip on the feather, staring into Gabriel’s eyes. The feather feels warmer, it’s heating up the heat radiating into Sam’s skin, sinking bone deep. His hand feels hot, and then the heat begins to spread along his arm, moving into the rest of his body. He feels sweat break out over his skin.

“Gabriel, I’m burning up!”

Small flares of light begin to arc from the feather, sizzling in the air, lacing themselves around Sam’s wrist, striking out at his chest.

“Gabriel…”

“It’s okay, You’ll be okay” Gabriel’s voice reaches him faintly through the crackling sizzle of power from the feather. “Just keep hold of…” Gabriel’s voice fades out and Sam is so dazzled by the light emanating from the feather that he can’t make out anything else. He reaches blindly for Gabriel with his free hand. “I c-can’t see!”

Sam can hear murmuring, faintly at first, drowned out by the crackling from the feather. The murmuring grows louder, voices speaking in tongues Sam doesn’t understand. A resounding clap of thunder splits the air, right inside the room they’re sitting in. Lightning arcs from every direction at once. Gabriel’s grip tightens on Sam’s wrist as voices speak out of the thunder. The words run together, unintelligible until, suddenly, they make sense.

_Gabriel is bonded. Gabriel has taken a mate. Gabriel…Gabriel, Gabriel has…_

Sam breathes raggedly, through parted lips. His heart pounds so hard that his chest aches with it. “Gabriel…” he gasps.

“I’m here, beloved.”

The voices speak faster, louder now. It’s overwhelming. Sam instinctively tries to cover his ears, but Gabriel keeps hold of his wrist. “Don’t let go!” he insists.

Sam nods, sobbing.

The voices hush a little, still talking all at once.

_…ster…S…m…ster… Sam Winchester! Gabriel has bonded with a Winchester!_

It sounds like a nest of angry wasps, ominous buzzing, the sound vibrates though Sam’s being, filling him with terror. He screams.

“Sam! Focus. Focus on me. Focus…” Gabriel’s voice reaches him faintly through the tumult.

“They’re angry!” Sam struggles to break Gabriel’s grip on his wrist.

“Screw them!” Gabriel yells. He raises his voice, shouts into the mayhem. “Sam Winchester is my chosen mate. Anyone who stands against him, stands against me and I _will_ oppose you! I will defend him who is my own.”

There is a sudden lull and Sam finds himself surrounded with warm golden light. He and Gabriel are cocooned by it. It’s the purest light Sam has ever seen. It looks almost liquid. He meets Gabriel’s eyes, _such_ eyes. Sam realises that they are the source of that radiance.

“Sam Winchester, I endow thee with my grace, my strength, my life-for time, and times and time to come. So let it be.”

From somewhere and everywhere, a voice speaks with warm assent. “So it is!”

There is stillness and the light fades and the room takes shape around them.

Sam blinks, staring into Gabriel’s eyes as the feather glows between them until it slowly fades to nothing.

“It’s…gone?” Sam whispers.

Gabriel smiles. He turns Sam’s hand over. “Look.”

Sam follows the archangel’s gaze and draws a sharp breath. Drawn with the shaft at the base of his thumb, and the rest of the feather extending along his wrist, is a perfectly detailed tattoo of the alula feather. Sam stares at it in mute wonder for a long moment.

“You don’t have to display that, if you don’t want to," Gabriel says quietly. “I mean, it’s an angel feather, it can hide itself if need be.”

Sam looks up, meeting his eyes. “No. No, it’s fine. Leave it. It’s just…a lot to take in.”

Gabriel smiles. “Yeah, it was a little intense.”

“It’s done, then. We’re…”

“Bond-mates. Married. However you want to say it,” Gabriel says. “It might take a little time to sink in. Not exactly the standard human white wedding, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam’s voice is an awed whisper. “Was that…those voices…”

“Angel radio? Yeah.”

“How do you make any sense of it? The voices were so jumbled together.”

Gabriel shrugs. “You learn to tune in and out of what you need or want to hear,” he says. “You’ll adjust, with time.” He squeezes Sam’s hand. “You look exhausted.”

“I am.” Sam can’t stifle a yawn. “I’m sorry. I really need to sleep.”

“You don’t have to apologize. C’mon. get into bed. I’ll be right here with you.”

Sam does as Gabriel says, letting his partner settle in beside him. He feels safe. Securely wrapped in Gabriel’s embrace. Sam lets his eyes drift closed. It’s a new beginning for them. A blank page.

He knows that tomorrow, the search for Michael will continue. The war will go on, there will be monsters to hunt, and a hundred things to coordinate and think about. For now, though, he is content to rest.

_We share a more profound bond…_

The words, spoken in Castiel’s rough tones, drift through Sam’s mind just as sleep claims him. He tries to chase down when, and why Cas said that, but it’s too elusive and he’s too exhausted. It’s a puzzle for another time.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam wakes surrounded by the familiar warmth of being wrapped up in Gabriel’s arms. He feels the soft weight of a wing across his shoulders. He can vaguely make out a glowing outline of one wing. Sam stirs a little, lifts a hand and lays it on the wing’s leading edge.

“You’re awake,” Gabriel murmurs he starts to retract the limb, but Sam gently grips it.

“Please, don’t.”

Gabriel relaxes. He brushes his lips against the side of Sam’s neck.

“I can see it,” Sam says.

“Yeah. You’re looking with new eyes.”

Sam strokes the feathered limb. He can feel a thick, strong bone overlaid by powerful muscles. It’s warm and soft to his touch. 

Gabriel lifts his wing to give Sam room to roll over and then lets it settle again. He smiles at Sam in the faint light.

“Good morning,” Gabriel says.

“Hey.” Sam murmurs. “So I didn’t dream all of that…last night?”

“Nope. It’s real. Although, to be honest, I’ve needed to pinch myself a couple of times too.” Gabriel draws Sam closer and kisses him tentatively, but then bolder when Sam’s lips part for his tongue. They kiss slowly, exploring, tasting, learning each other. It’s long moments before Sam pulls away, looking into Gabriel’s eyes. “I used to think you were such an ass,” he says.

One eyebrow flicks upwards in that sardonic way Gabriel has. “Well, don’t be fooled by all this.” He chuckles. “I _am_ an asshole. I’ll try to temper it around you, though.”

Sam laughs, his fingers caressing Gabriel’s wing. He lets them trail along the thick bone, which tapers into a structure that resembles a human wrist, except on a more massive scale. He holds Gabriel’s gaze as he explores, watching those golden eyes, reading flickers of expression. “Your wings are incredible.”

“Thanks. They’re not anywhere near their full glory, yet.”

“I can only just see them. Just a faint outline.”

A nod. “Yeah. We’re a little depleted yet. It'll improve.”

Sam pulls in a shaky breath and this time it is he who initiates the kiss. He closes his eyes, losing himself in the sweet scent of apples, cinnamon and spice that is uniquely Gabriel. _He smells like fall,_ Sam muses. He gasps when Gabriel’s hands move from around his waist, sliding lower over suddenly naked skin. Somehow, Gabriel is naked too.

With a soft moan of need Gabriel rolls Sam onto his back, settling on top of him. The great wings mantling over them. He grinds against Sam, his hard cock sliding against the hollow of Sam’s hip, rubbing against Sam’s growing erection.

Sam whimpers, pulls Gabriel’s head down and kisses him as the world around them fades away and all that remains is heat and need and Gabriel’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this story, please leave a comment. It helps me to write faster. :)


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